


Does your Mother Know?

by stillwaterseas (phoenixflight)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Blow Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Underage Sex, Virginity Kink, canon-typical mentions of slavery, fuckboi Damen, one sided Damen/Auguste, teenage Laurent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/stillwaterseas
Summary: The Veretian prince was handsome and charming, courteous to the Akielon delegation despite tense negotiations, and a talented rider and swordsman. The first time he almost disarmed Damen in the training ring, Damen felt his stomach roll pleasantly. He had a clear, loud laugh, an easy smile with a mischievous curl to it, and gold hair that shone in the sun.Then there was his little brother.





	Does your Mother Know?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to [Elle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy), who inspired this with her love of teenage Laurent and who then helped me clean it up and finish it. <3 <3 <3 I don't know what I'd do in this fandom without you.  
> This fills the squares for underage, and virginity/celibacy kink.  
> Title is from the ABBA song of the same name. The working title of this fic was "fuckboi damen" so enjoy!

When Theomedes ordered Damen along on the diplomatic trip to Vere, Damen had been annoyed. He would miss the midsummer games in Ios and the harvest festival with the first pressing of grapes. But as it turned out, against all expectations, Damen was enjoying his time in Arles.

Damen had been dreading months of dull, circular negotiation and pointless posturing, and had been pleasantly surprised instead to meet the crown prince. 

The Veretian prince was handsome and charming, courteous to the Akielon delegation despite tense negotiations, and a talented rider and swordsman. The first time he almost disarmed Damen in the training ring, Damen felt his stomach roll pleasantly. He had a clear, loud laugh, an easy smile with a mischievous curl to it, and gold hair that shone in the sun. 

Then there was his little brother. 

Their only apparent similarity was their fair, gleaming hair and sharp blue eyes. Where Auguste was gregarious and generous with his attention, Laurent was withdrawn and watchful. Where Auguste was strong, bulky with an athlete’s muscle, Laurent was a willowy boy of fifteen with the complexion and constitution of a pampered slave. The younger prince lingered on the edges of things, solemn and calm, and spoke little. His Akielon wasn’t very good from what Damen had heard of it - Auguste’s was better, and he had enough humor to laugh at himself when he got things wrong. 

The Akielon delegation had been at Arles two months, negotiating a deal over the tensely contested land of Delpha. Theomedes would have as soon seen it come to war, but three years of drought and poor harvests had made the coffers too thin to sufficiently fund a campaign. Instead, he had sent his heir to build goodwill and talk down the Veretian export price on wheat, with concessions over wine, olive oil, and salt.  

While King Aleron and his councilors argued with the kyros of Ios and the exchequer of state, the crown princes of Akielos and Vere spent long afternoons riding, dueling, and wrestling. Auguste had been eager to learn the Akielon wrestling style, although Damen hadn’t managed to get him to practice naked yet. 

From lounging in the baths with him after a long ride or a hard fight, Damen had a healthy appreciation for Auguste’s body, although as yet nothing had come of it. Damen wasn’t sure if Auguste reserved his affection for women - a difficult life in Vere - or if he was wary of disrupting diplomacy, but Damen had hopes.

As summer lengthened and the hot days of the harvest season began, Auguste and Damen deepened their friendship. Prince Laurent was a half-noticed presence throughout - Auguste spoke with great fondness of his little brother, and they seemed to be close. Sometimes Laurent trailed after them when they were on the training grounds, always watching, never joining in. Privately, Damen thought it would do the scrawny boy good to pick up a sword once in a while. Laurent was always at council meetings, and listening silently on the edge of conversations at dinner, but rarely spoke up. Aleron hardly seemed to notice his presence and the rest of the court treated him with the deference due to his rank and otherwise with little interest. 

The only time Damen had heard Laurent speak more than a few words was when he had encountered the brothers in the gardens unexpectedly - Laurent had been chattering rapidly in Veretian and waving his hands exuberantly while his brother grinned at him. It made the younger prince look animated and human, instead of like a stone statue or a pretty doll. When they had seen Damen, Auguste had greeted him enthusiastically and Laurent had flushed pink across his fine cheekbones, going silent. 

One afternoon, Damen and Auguste were practicing with the javelin in one of the ornate, decorative courtyards, with Laurent watching from the shade of one of the ornate pillars lining the yard, a book in his lap. The sun was beating down on their backs and radiating off the sandy ground. Damen was in his chiton, which was sensible garb for the heat, unlike the ridiculous Veretian frippery. Auguste had stripped down to his undershirt and was still sweating through it - making the fine fabric cling to his defined chest and flexing arms. 

He was demonstrating a variation on the classic grip saying something to which Damen was paying very little attention - too focused on watching the ripple of muscle as he hefted the spear. The javelin whistled through its arc, landing quivering in the sand at the far end of the courtyard, and Damen pulled his gaze away from Auguste to follow it. Indeed it had landed further than most of their throws thus far, and Auguste laughed, pleased but not pompous.

A figured joined them on the edge of the courtyard, beside Laurent. It was a young-ish courtier who Damen vaguely recognized as one of Auguste’s friends and political allies. He waited patiently for Damen to finish his round with the javelin, trying out the new throw, and then said, “Your Highness, you asked to be consulted when I had news from the breeder on the new mare.” 

“Ah yes. Thank you, Berenger.” Auguste pushed strands of sweaty hair, come loose from his braid, out of his eyes. “Your pardon, Damen, this may take a little while, but if you want to wait we can go another round.” 

“Of course.” Damen waved him off, and the prince retreated with Berenger to the shadows beneath the pillared entrance to the palace. They passed by Laurent who glanced up at them, and then looked over at Damen. Damen thrust the practice javelin spear-point in the ground, and stretched, squinting his eyes shut against the blinding sun. 

There was a soft crunch of footsteps on the sand behind him, and he looked around to see the younger prince approaching, sun shining white-gold in his hair. In deference to the heat, like his brother he had removed his jacket, wearing only tight trousers and a loose, soft white shirt, but unlike Auguste, sweat-soaked and rumpled, Laurent was perfectly composed.  

“I have a proposition for you.” 

“Oh really?” They were speaking in Veretian, and Laurent’s formal tone was almost as hard to decipher as the parlance of the negotiating table. 

“Yes. I want you to fuck me.” 

Damen felt his eyebrows fly up. “I thought you didn’t take lovers,” he said.

“Yes, everyone says things about me,” Laurent said sourly, which Damen hadn’t particularly observed to be true, but then again, he hadn’t been paying much attention. “It is beneath you to listen to gossip.” 

“So you  _ have _ had lovers before?” 

Laurent’s cheeks reddened a little in the sun. “No,” he said finally, and lifted his chin, holding Damen’s gaze. Damen had to respect his boldness, at least. 

After a long, silent moment Damen said, “Why me?” 

“I am looking for someone of the appropriate rank, who doesn’t have ties to the Veretian court. It was you or Prince Torveld.” Laurent’s eyes flickered over his body - arms and legs bare in his chiton, sweat still gleaming on his shoulders. His expression was studiously unaffected. “And you’re not unappealing.”

Damen assessed the prince in return, looking him over with new eyes. Laurent was almost a head shorter than Damen and slightly built. His features were very fine, Damen supposed but he still had a coltish awkwardness to his limbs, not quite grown. Damen preferred men to boys, but he remembered being fifteen, and the urgency of his body’s desires. It couldn’t hurt to help the young prince satisfy his curiosity. And anyway, his blood was hot from watching Auguste all afternoon. “Alright.”

The prince was a little pink, but he nodded as if he’d expected nothing less. “Good. Then tonight you can…” 

“Why not now?” 

“Now?” Laurent’s eyes widened a little. 

Damen shrugged. “Auguste said he might take a while talking about horses. I was going to do some sword drills but…” He considered making a joke about swords, and discarded it. “No time like the present.” Putting off casual encounters just gave them weight. Best to do it quickly, and move on. 

The prince recovered his composure quickly. “Alright,” he drawled. “If you’re so eager for me, far be it from me to deny you.” 

Damen rolled his eyes, but Laurent didn’t see, already turning on his heel. He walked with confident strides across the sandy courtyard, and was swallowed by the blue shadows under the corniced arch. Although his stature was very different, he walked with the same gait as his brother, Damen noticed. 

In the shadows beneath the overhang, the marble still held some of the coolness of the morning. Auguste and Berenger were discussing foaling dates near the pillar at the far side of the covered archway. The dim hall within led to the baths and the rest of the palace, and Damen turned his steps in that direction, meaning to head for the privacy of his rooms, or at least one of the alcoves off the baths, but Laurent had stopped in front of him. The prince took his arm, cool fingers pleasant after the hot day, and tugged him into the dark recess behind the heavy wooden door, which stood open inward into the hall. 

“Here?” Damen asked. They could still hear Auguste and Berenger indistinctly, voices echoing and distant, although the space was dark and private. A stripe of sunlight fell through the gap where the door hinges hung, a stark, brilliant contrast to the dimness.

“No time like the present.” Laurent’s mouth curled in a smirk. “Does it offend your Akielon sensibilities to fuck in daylight?” 

Damen narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t about to be goaded by a bookish boy six years his junior. Stepping forward, he crowded Laurent back against the marble, letting his full height loom, and watched the young prince’s eyes widen a little. The narrow strip of light fell across his face, highlighting his cheekbones and full lips. That sharp mouth was gratifyingly silent. 

Feeling a flutter of satisfaction in his stomach, Damen braced an arm beside Laurent’s head, watching Laurent’s eyes go dark and intent, and bent to kiss him. 

Laurent shared a scent in common with his brother - under the smell of Veretian scented soaps there was a faint, pleasant smell that Damen recognized from grappled with Auguste sweaty in his arms. It made an unmistakable heat begin to pool in Damen’s belly as their lips brushed. 

Laurent made a small sound in the back of his throat and surged up into the kiss, noses bumping, lips bruising against teeth. Damen had never been kissed like this- fiercely, ungracefully, without art. Pulling his head back, he broke off the kiss with a laugh. 

Laurent’s face flamed red, body going tense against his. “If you’re going to laugh at me,” he began, voice high and youthful. 

“No, no, no, sorry.” Damen was still grinning. “It’s sweet.” 

“Sweet.” Laurent’s mouth twisted sourly, eyes blazing. He looked good like this, Damen thought, - nothing like the forgettable, pretty courtier’s mask he usually wore. 

“Yes. Sweet.” He tipped Laurent’s chin up with two of his fingers, ignoring Laurent’s glare, and remembered the first time he’d been kissed, tried to emulate what the slave girl had done to guide him without seeming to guide him. She’d been a virgin also, of course, but impeccably trained. 

Following his memory, Damen cupped Laurent’s chin gently, both a caress and to hold him in place. His skin was downy against Damen’s fingers - usually, Damen enjoyed the soft roughness of stubble when he slept with men. But the furious light in Laurent’s eyes sparked the same kind of appreciation in his gut. Bending his head, he brushed his lips slowly against Laurent’s, pulling back when Laurent tried to deepen the kiss. He nibbled and flicked his tongue lightly at Laurent’s lips, keeping the touches shallow, teasing, trying all the arts that lovers usually used on him. Laurent sighed a little, tilting his head for more, and he pressed his body closer to Damen. Pleased, Damen grinned into the kiss, letting Laurent lick into his mouth, and feeling the young prince shudder when the tips of their tongues met. 

Laurent wrapped his arms around Damen’s neck, and then pulled back, wrinkling his nose. “You’re all sweaty.” 

“You were the one who didn’t want to wait until I’d washed.” Damen yanked the hem of Laurent’s shirt up, out of the waist of his trousers, and slid his hands up under it. 

Where a warrior was hard and muscled, or a woman curved, Laurent was lean and smooth, skin pleasantly cool. As Damen’s thumbs slid over his small, hard nipples, Laurent shivered violently and sucked in a breath. Damen felt Laurent’s ribcage expand under his hands. He did it again. 

Swearing softly in Veretian, tugged at Damen’s chiton until the pins slipped free and the fabric fell the ground at their feet. They were standing close together, but Damen shifted back a little to let Laurent look him over. Their eyes had adjusted to the gloom. Laurent’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes trailing down Damen’s broad chest, and Damen felt a surge of satisfaction, his half hard cock filling a little more. 

“Well?” Damen said, a little smugly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” 

Laurent blinked, and pulled his slack expression into something approaching haughty. “Not yet it isn’t. Standing around naked isn’t exactly a specialized skill.” 

“Spoiled,” Damen muttered, sliding his fingers under the waist of Laurent’s tight trousers. “Take these off.” 

“You can’t order me around like a servant,” Laurent said, but he was reaching for the laces. 

“You wanted someone of your own rank, didn’t you? Wasn’t that part of the appeal?” Damen dragged his mouth along Laurent’s collarbone and listened to his breathing go ragged and fast. 

They were standing close enough that Damen could feel Laurent’s hands moving between them, undoing his laces. The fine fabric slid down his hips as they were loosened, and Damen let his own hands follow, trailing over the sharp bones of Laurent’s hips, the downy tops of his thighs, to brush against his cock. It twitched at his touch and Laurent made a small sound in his throat. 

“Happy now?” Damen asked, curling his fingers around Laurent’s warm, hard flesh, and stroking him lightly. Eyes sliding shut, Laurent clutched at his arms, mouth open. His lips were red and wet. Damen leaned down and kissed him again, because he could. 

There was a thrill in knowing that no one else had ever done this before - and that Laurent wasn’t trained to this. It was all new, his reactions without artifice. If Damen bit his lip and made him shiver - like this, or if he twisted his hand just so on Laurent’s cock, making him groan a little - it was all perfectly genuine. Damen’s own cock was hard and beginning to feel insistent. 

He ran a hand down Laurent’s back, over his shirt, to his bare ass, and then gripped his hips, spinning Laurent around to face the wall and the crack in the door. Laurent gasped at the sudden movement. 

Damen ran his hands over the perfect, pale curve of Laurent’s ass, soft as ripe fruit, nothing like the toned muscle of a warrior. He wrapped an arm around Laurent’s chest to brace him, and found he could circle Laurent’s entire rib cage easily. Laurent steadied himself against the wall, looking over his shoulder with uncertainty in his eyes. “Do you have oil?” 

Damen paused, and swore. “You should have thought of that before you decided to fuck just anywhere.”

He heard Laurent swallow. “I’ve seen pets do it… without.” 

“I’m not going to fuck you dry on your first night.” He said the word in Akielon, not knowing what the Veretian equivalent might be. 

“My what?” Laurent asked. 

“The first night. It’s what we call the honor of taking a slave for the first time.” 

Laurent twisted in his arms, face twisting furiously. “I’m not a slave.” 

Damen flushed, loosening his grip on Laurent. “No, I only meant…” 

“If that’s what you think of me, you’d best reconsider. I won’t just vanish away into obscurity when you’re finished with me.” The prince was half facing him, one hip braced against the pillar, elbow jabbing Damen in the chest. “This may come as a shock to you, but not everyone you get your cock into is an obedient, docile object for you to use however you want.” 

“No!” Damen protested, and then dropped his voice, remembering Auguste and Berenger talking not far away. He could still hear them faintly. “A slave would never be as obnoxious as you.” 

“Oh, thank you very much. If this is the Akielon idea of bedroom talk, it’s no wonder that you have so many bastards. Your wives must not be able to stand you.” 

“Look, do you want this or not?” Damen exclaimed. His cock had softened somewhat, but not entirely. Laurent’s ass really was a work of art. 

“What are we even doing, if you won’t fuck me without oil?” Laurent asked, turning away again, leaning forward against the pillar. It pressed his ass up into Damen again, his narrow back arching, and Damen’s dick twitched emphatically, beginning to fill. The boy was a vicious spoiled brat, but he was beautiful. 

“Put your thighs together,” Damen said. “Tightly.” He considered adding something about the versatility of this position, and its place in the army and the gymnasium, but decided that Akielon culture was too fraught a topic to explore further. After all, this wasn’t a lover’s tryst. Best to keep it simple. 

He rubbed the head of his cock against the smooth, plush curve of Laurent’s ass, stroking himself to full hardness, and then pressed his cock between Laurent’s thighs. The dry friction pulled his foreskin back hard from the head of his cock and he groaned, enjoying the edge of pain in the intense sensation. 

”What do I get out of this?” Laurent asked, and Damen wished fervently for something to put in Laurent’s mouth. A second cock, perhaps. He was suddenly assailed by the thought of sharing Laurent with someone, pressing him between two bodies, his pink lips stretched around someone else’s cock as Damen pressed inside him from behind. Long fingers curled in his blond hair. A vaguely imagined third partner, broad and muscular, with fair Veretian coloring to match the prince. 

Damen thrust faster, the slide becoming easier as his own precome slicked the head of his dick. Sliding a hand down Laurent’s lean belly, he cupped his half hard cock, working him gently to the rhythm of Damen’s thrusts. The boy was young and responsive - it didn’t take long for his cock to begin to thicken in Damen’s grasp, the silky skin sliding over the smooth head. Laurent made a soft sound in his throat and pushed back a little into Damen’s next thrust. Grinning into Laurent’s hair, Damen breathed deeply, and was struck again by how much he smelled like his brother. A vivid sense-memory assaulted Damen, of getting a face full of Auguste’s hair while wrestling - feeling his strong, hard body above him. Damen groaned and thrust faster. 

Even with Laurent’s legs pressed close together it wasn’t particularly tight, but his inner thighs were velvety soft, and he made delicious, muffled noises every time the head of Damen’s cock bumped against his balls. 

Wanting more of those sounds, he slid his other hand, the one not on his cock, up Laurent’s chest and pinched his nipples sharply. Laurent moaned aloud, and Damen clapped the hand hastily over his mouth. “Shhh,” he murmured in Laurent’s ear. “You don’t want your brother to hear, do you?” 

Laurent shuddered in his grip, whining against Damen’s palm. He was rocking his hips back against Damen’s thrusts and fucking forward into his fist at once, squirming, flushed cheek pressed against the cool marble of the wall. 

Damen closed his eyes, cheek pressed against Laurent’s neck, breathing in the smell of him. The coil of hot tension that had been simmering in his stomach all morning with Auguste was rearing up, flowing through his whole body. Laurent’s small, slender body writhed against him, and he made high, urgent sounds against Damen’s hand. Damen was hot all over, fresh sweat breaking on his back, trying not to make noise himself, trying not to imagine what Auguste would do if he caught them...

Damen bit down on Laurent’s shoulder he came, muffling his groan, cock spurting messily between Laurent’s legs, over his balls. Laurent made a startled squeaking noise and Damen thrust a few more times in the slick, tight space. 

Finally, he relaxed. He’d shoved Laurent hard against the wall as he finished, up on his tiptoes, and Laurent slumped down a little as he stepped back, turning. 

“Is that all?” His breath was short and his cheeks flushed. His cock bobbed red and hard, arching against his stomach, the tip wet with fluid, gleaming obscenely in the sliver of light. “Rumors of your prowess are exaggerated. I could do better with my hand.” 

Still breathing hard, Damen narrowed his eyes, knowing he was being goaded but unable to suppress the flare of annoyance under his sternum. Pressing Laurent roughly back against the wall, Damen sank to his knees. 

Laurent gasped as Damen took him into his mouth, hands flying to Damen’s head as if to brace himself. Glancing up from under his lashes, Damen grinned at Laurent’s shocked expression, lips pulling up at the corners as they stretched around Laurent’s cock. He ran his tongue across the sensitive head, making Laurent shudder, and tasting the pulse of salty, bitter fluid that leaked from it. Laurent whined. 

Damen’s limbs were still loose and heavy with the pleasant lethargy of orgasm. It was easy to relax his jaw and pull Laurent’s hips toward him, encouraging him to fuck shallowly into his mouth. Usually he used more art than this, took pride in taking his partners apart with his lips and tongue. But judging from the high, urgent noises Laurent was making and the rapid snap of his hips, he didn’t need any more. It was all new to him - of course it was good. 

One hand on Laurent’s hip, bracing him, Damen slipped the other between his legs, cupping his balls, and then letting his fingers slide further back, through the slick mess of his own come, up the crack of Laurent’s ass. He felt Laurent’s hole flex and twitch against the pad of his thumb, and pressed in a little, wet and easy. Laurent’s whole body jolted, hands tightening painfully in Damen’s hair, and he made a choked off, gasping noise, filling Damen’s mouth with come. 

Sputtering a little, Damen pulled back to suck Laurent through it, enjoying the rush of power at feeling his cock twitching on his tongue, running the tip over the head of Laurent’s cock where it was too sensitive and feeling him shiver. 

“What do you think of my prowess now?” 

It was deeply gratifying to see Laurent struggle for words. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked rapidly, unfocused. He licked his lips and swallowed, chest heaving. “Adequate,” he mumbled finally, and Damen threw back his head and laughed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, tasting the bitter tang of Laurent still in the back of his throat. 

 

That evening, Damen joined the royal family at the high table for supper, as he had done each night of his stay. Laurent still wore the trousers Damen had yanked down around his knees, although he had put his jacket back on, and was dressed immaculately. Auguste had bathed and changed, and his freshly washed hair tumbled shining down his back. Damen was urgently aware of both of them. As a guest of honor, he was seated between the two princes, and for the first time he had the unsettling feeling of being outflanked on a battlefield. 

“You look pleased this evening, Laurent,” Auguste said across Damen, and Damen inhaled a crumb of bread and started coughing. He felt Auguste’s broad hand pound on his back. When he looked up, eyes watering a little, Laurent was smirking. 

“I had a very pleasant afternoon,” Laurent said mildly, when Damen had stopped coughing. Damen focused his gaze on his plate. 

“Really? You spent all afternoon watching us train. Usually you complain of boredom.”

“You’re the one who’s always telling me I’ll have to learn to entertain myself.” Laurent passed a plate of candied figs - almost certainly Akielon imported - in front of Damen to his brother. “Maybe I’m just growing up.” 

Damen cast a glance at Auguste out of the corner of his eye and saw the bemused expression on the crown prince’s face. “You are that, certainly. Damen, did you enjoy the rest of your day?” he added. “I’m sorry I abandoned you so abruptly. You know how Berenger and I get about horses.” 

Damen cleared his throat, and reached for his wine glass. “Oh. Yes. It was. Fine. It was fine. Pleasant.” He felt his cheeks heating, although thankfully he never blushed as obviously as the pale Veretian princes. That thought was followed immediately by a memory of Laurent’s flushed face and open mouth. Damen took a deep draught of wine. 

Now Auguste was looking at  _ him _ oddly. A spike of anxiety twisted in his gut - did he suspect? Would Laurent say something to him? What would Auguste do if he found out? What would  _ Aleron _ do if he found out? Suddenly the afternoon seemed more complicated than just helping Prince Laurent with some childish exploration. 

Laurent leaned forward, a smug, secretive smile on his face, and Damen’s heart rabbited with trepidation. “He’s being polite. I cornered him earlier with some… diplomatic considerations.”

“Oh really?” Auguste raised his eyebrows. “I hope my brother didn’t offend you. He can be strong-minded about politics.”

“No!” Damen said hastily. “Not at all. It was.” He stopped, at a loss for words, distracted by Laurent smirking beside him. 

“It was very informative,” Laurent said. “I’m sure we’ll have to continue our conversation some other time. Pass the quail, brother,” he added.

As Auguste passed the platter of stuffed, glazed quail, he leaned in to speak in Damen’s ear. Damen shivered at the warmth of his breath against Damen’s skin as he murmured. “I’m glad my brother is taking an interest.” Again Damen noticed how much the subtle smell of his body was the same as Laurent’s. “Don’t tell him I said so, it’ll go to his head, but he’s truly wasted as a second son. He needs more things to engage him. So if you don’t mind indulging him, you might keep him entertained.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!  
> Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/) or at my fandom blog [seas-of-ios](https://seas-of-ios.tumblr.com/)


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